To once more cast my line next to yours would be a just reward.

Together then man-to-man I could thank you for all you’ve meant.

You rushed too early from my life for me and I miss you dearly.

You are still my constant guiding light, the yardstick against which I measure my worth.

One day I’ll see the sunshine on your face, for surely we both shall have God’s grace.

When I was growing up Barnhart’s Creek was the center of my universe, from the meadows and the springs above the bridge on the County gravel road to the bottom of the Creek where my grandfather’s log cottage stood majestic over the Big Dead Basin. Looking across the tall stumps to the purple hills I could see solitary eagles spying fish. Nature so eloquently drew in the seasons with vivid colors-each season was spectacular. At sunrise or sunset you could touch heaven, and even feel it touching you.

When I’m through here and I’ve done my best I wonder what then lies ahead?

To once more cast my line next to yours would be a just reward.

Together then man-to-man I could thank you for all you’ve meant.

You rushed too early from my life for me and I miss you dearly.

You are still my constant guiding light, the yardstick against which I measure my worth.

One day I’ll see the sunshine on your face, for surely we both shall have God’s grace.

Alone against this backdrop, one seemed so small, so insignificant. Yet, my grandfather made me feel like the biggest little man on earth. He helped me bait hooks with slippery night crawlers, and he untangled my lines from the brush. Above all, he loved me and gave me time and space to grow while enjoying youth. What a treasure in youth to be given to youthful pursuits. He took me places. He was like a Native who knew the secret places untouched by man. He showed me purity in thought and deed.

When I’m through here and I’ve done my best I wonder what then lies ahead?

To once more cast my line next to yours would be a just reward.

Together then man-to-man I could thank you for all you’ve meant.

You rushed too early from my life for me and I miss you dearly.

You are still my constant guiding light, the yardstick against which I measure my worth.

One day I’ll see the sunshine on your face, for surely we both shall have God’s grace.

I remember simple places like The Mulligan, Clark’s Creek, The Yellow Dog and Silver Lake where we fished for brookies, browns and rainbows. He taught me to respect the wild and its wild things, from fruits and berries to deer and even wolves. All God’s creatures have a purpose he would say. Be gracious. Be kind. Others are coming behind us.

When I’m through here and I’ve done my best I wonder what then lies ahead?

To once more cast my line next to yours would be a just reward.

Together then man-to-man I could thank you for all you’ve meant.

You rushed too early from my life for me and I miss you dearly.

You are still my constant guiding light, the yardstick against which I measure my worth.

One day I’ll see the sunshine on your face, for surely we both shall have God’s grace.

He taught me about possibilities. I remember a trip to St. Ignace to see the miracle, The Mackinac Bridge, suspended from shore-to-shore. No dream is too large. The impossible is possible. I remember the side trip to Sault Ste. Marie where ore boats toppled from Lake Superior to Huron just as Indians surely paddled canoes from one to the other centuries before.

When I’m through here and I’ve done my best I wonder what then lies ahead?

To once more cast my line next to yours would be a just reward.

Together then man-to-man I could thank you for all you’ve meant.

You rushed too early from my life for me and I miss you dearly.

You are still my constant guiding light, the yardstick against which I measure my worth.

One day I’ll see the sunshine on your face, for surely we both shall have God’s grace.

It was a life of rich texture, without the trappings of wealth. Were we poor? I don’t recall it that way at all. Otherwise why would I pine for those days again? I know when I once again walk the Barnhart, Mulligan and the rest I’ll see him. He’ll be dressed in gray coveralls. He’ll be sucking his pipe and holding his pole. He’ll be beckoning to me to go there again. I’m not through here yet, but when I am I’ll join you. We’ll walk together. We’ll sit. We’ll talk. We’ll fish. And we’ll paint the morning and the evening skies together.

When I’m through here and I’ve done my best I wonder what then lies ahead?

To once more cast my line next to yours would be a just reward.

Together then man-to-man I could thank you for all you’ve meant.

You rushed too early from my life for me and I miss you dearly.

You are still my constant guiding light, the yardstick against which I measure my worth.

One day I’ll see the sunshine on your face, for surely we both shall have God’s grace.